


Beneath the stars

by Vixie



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aww, Cute, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-03
Packaged: 2018-01-03 09:15:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixie/pseuds/Vixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Éowyn and Arwen aren't quite a thing, but they're quietly seeing each other alongside their respective canonical husbands. Éowyn takes a trip back home to Rohan and Queen Arwen tags along. They take a midnight stroll out to the edge of Fangorn forest and it's kind of cute, okay?<br/>It's set a few years after the War of the Ring<br/>PostEDIT: I posted this ages ago and yes, I am aware that Fangorn is actually quite a way from Rohan. I would go back and fix it, but oh well. I threw this thing together in about half an hour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beneath the stars

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic here on Ao3, and my first fic in the LOTR fandom. It hasn't been beta'd, of course, because I haven't got any friends here in the LOTR fandom, but enjoy!  
> 

The stars shone bright above the expansive meadows and fields the Mark like countless millions of grains of sand spread seemingly casually across the inky blue of the cloudless night sky.  It was approaching Yuletide, but the air was pleasantly cool on the skin and as still as if hushed by the silent touchdown of the final rust-coloured leaf on the grass trimmed by the teeth of a hundred rabbits.

Éowyn, Lady of the Ithilien, stepped over a rock in her path and turned back to Queen Arwen Undómiel, and giggled softly in an almost childish delight as she reached out to take the she-elf’s hand to pull her along towards the treeline of Fangorn. They were heading for the small rise, just in front of it, where her brother, Éomer had slain a party of Uruk-hai who were transporting her friends, Merry and Pippin, to Isengard during the war. Straightening her pack on her back with a hand, and lacing her fingers between Arwen’s with the other, she walked the remaining few hundred feet to their usual spot.

Even thoughÉowyn was now married to Faramir, and Arwen to King Aragorn, they often met up like this, just the two of them, and when Éowyn took a trip home to visit her brother, Arwen had decided to join her. She’d never asked Faramir what he thought of her spending so much time with the queen, but when she had mentioned going home to Rohan with Arwen, he had simply smiled, nodded and said, “It will do you good.”

“Why here, rather than anywhere else in the Riddermark?” Arwen inquired, her voice as soft and beautiful as her skin and demeanour.

“The stars’ beauty almost match yours here,” Éowyn replied, her eyes meeting Arwen’s as she reached out to touch the elf’s flawless skin, cupping her jaw. It was smooth as silk under her touch, and soft as even the most gentle of breezes. Her breath caught in her throat for a second, as always, before she moved to withdraw her hand, but Arwen held it in place.

“You flatterer,” Arwen smiled in the pale moonlight, “As a girl, I was taught a great number of things by my father. One such thing was how to listen to the stars.”

“Oh?” Éowyn took Arwen’s hand and kissed the back of it gently, like a butterfly with sore feet, “What do they say?”

 She loved to hear tales of elf-magic, but was a much more practical woman, and a little more focused on the fact that she had a beautiful woman in front of her. She loved Faramir dearly, but she deep within her she had a longing for feminine company as well, and loved her friend Arwen deeply. This was not the first time, nor the last, that she enjoyed the companionship of the elf queen, and in the privacy of her own mind she marvelled at the stark contrast between her rugged husband, and the beauty of this creature, almost godlike in appearance.

“That is a question for the wise elders across the Waters, spending their lives studying such things,” Arwen told her, “I hear but I do not understand… What are you looking at?”

“You.” Éowyn said simply, “I was simply wondering, how can the beautiful, graceful Arwen Evenstar, Queen of the Reunited Kingdoms and Lady of Rivendell, enjoy the company of one such as I? I am not elf-born, nor am I of a beauty you could not find elsewhere.” she was filled with insecurities and in turn, bewilderment at this strange turn of events, but tried to follow the conversation regarding the stars, "But then what's the point of the stars speaking at all, if you can't understand then?"

"The fault, dear Éowyn, is not in our stars, but in ourselves," Arwen moved closer and wrapped an arm around Éowyn’s waist, "Even those without a voice still have the right to be heard," and she was pressing her lips to the human's with a gentle passion, an unstoppable force like the journey the moon makes across the sunless sky, bathing all who see her in her eerie light.

“You are more beautiful than any elf I have met, and you are more interesting than even the most learned man,” Arwen whispered, brushing Éowyn’s fair hair behind a rounded ear, “You have an undying fire in your heart which blazes like a thousand suns, and your eyes are older and wiser than any I have known. You may be mortal, but you have known pain, love, joy, and fear worth a thousand lifetimes,” she kissed the fair human again, who quivered happily under her touch, “and that, my dear Éowyn, is why I love you.”

“We should probably light the fire,” Éowyn murmured as Arwen moved down to kiss at her neck, and Arwen withdrew, nodded and said, “The night is long, and we are in no hurry.”

Éowyn slid her pack from her shoulder and allowed it to fall to the floor with a thud. She rummaged for the flint and steel, while Arwen went to gather firewood from fallen branches in the forest. Before, and during the war for the Ring, the forest was wild and evil, but since the treeherders had returned, it was no longer a dangerous place to walk at night. Arwen once said that the forest was old, so old that it remembered days from the beginning of the world. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that, but it was good for firewood nonetheless.

There was a ring of stones marking a fire pit where they had laid together the previous night, and Éowyn shook out a blanket to lie on, which produced a myriad of hay and dust. She had put it in the stable during the day, and it now smelled of horse, the scent of home. Arwen returned with an armful of firewood, and put it in the pit, arranging it just so. Éowyn felt a little guilty about a queen doing manual labour and dirtying her dress, but she seemed to enjoy it, and so she said nothing. After all, she had ridden off to battle and slain the Witch-King of Angmar and now she was wife of the steward to the king of Gondor.

 

Half an hour later, the fire was a lit and she lay in the arms of Arwen, relishing in the warmth from her body, thinking how perfectly humans and elf-kind fit together when lying next to each other. Human beings, and elves too, she concluded, as Arwen began gently pulling her clothes from her body, were built to be stacked.


End file.
